Glubyal 1

Soggy but resolute, the large group splashes downstream towards the kuo-toa city of Glubyal. They soon come to the first of three coral portcullises that block the tunnel. The barbed gates are designed to let water through, but it's apparent that the combination of high-pressure water and razor-sharp coral would quickly chew the flesh off of any victim unlucky enough to be pinned against them. "Like a cheese grater," laments Priggle dejectedly as he and Mara begin to tunnel around the gates.

"They're certainly serious," muses Tao. "We haven't even done anything to them yet."

"The key word being 'yet,'" quips Nolin prophetically. Malachite cracks his knuckles in agreement.

"I'm not sure we need to show a lot of patience for someone who would crush us, drown us, and slice us up. We should be cautious, though; we don't know who set us up, or why, and I'd rather not accuse the wrong person." In its sheath, Karthos quivers in agreement.

Helmet under one arm as she rests, Mara runs her fingers through her damp blond hair. "Well, right now I'm guessing that the Sea King of the Kuo-Toa is responsible. He's the one who is in allegiance with the ghouls, right?"

"Right. But he may have been lied to. Just don't jump to conclusions."

"I'm all about jumping to conclusions." Tao stretches, cat-like, and idly flicks a leech at the wall. "So what do we do when we get down there? Do we say, 'Hi, Mister Sea King. We want to go to your sacred shrine and free some elemental spirit you have trapped there. You don't mind, do you?' 'Cause I'm not sure he's going to be really enthusiastic about that plan."

"I don't know." Velendo splashes his shield down into the stream and leans on it heavily. "Maybe. We can also make contact with that rebel, what's-his-name..."

"Thoobel," Nolin supplies helpfully. "Monitor Thoobel."

"Right. Thoobel. All those names sound alike to me."

"I think they're named so that you can talk to them while drowning. Or maybe they name their babies by grabbing them, shoving them underwater, and listening to what they say."

Tao frowns. "I think Glibstone had a joke about that. Let me see." She fishes out the book of jokes he gave her, and nods. "Oh, there was one, but it's dirty. Here's one; what sound does a dwarf make while falling down stairs? CLANGEDDIN Clangeddin clangeddin..." She laughs, along with the dwarven troops. "I miss the old guy."

"Anyways," continues Velendo, determined not to be distracted, "Thoobel might be a person to ally with. We'll have to see."

"I don't mean to interrupt," interrupts Priggle as he emerges from the narrow tunnel he's excavating, "but I think I just heard the sound of fighting ahead."

Nolin rushes forward, and sure enough his keen ears pick up a faint grunt and the clang of metal. The adventurers quickly ready their weapons while the dwarves cover them, presenting a score of dwarven crossbows that are each cocked and aimed through the coral gates.

They wait for a few breathless seconds for something to appear. Instead of an enemy, though, they all see the third portcullis lurching upward as it unevenly begins to rise towards the ceiling.

Splinder waves his arm and hisses an order. While everyone else fades back into the shadows of the tunnel, Galtian and Priggle creep forwards surreptitiously and peek out without being seen. They glance down into a cavernous gorge which lies directly beyond the gates, where the stone tunnel that they've been following vanishes straight down into an abyss of unknowable depth. Only a highly defensible ledge snakes around the gorge to the right, eventually ending in a slender bridge that spans the gulf like a stone rainbow. Galthia silently reports to the rest of the group over the mindlink.

"Good thing we didn't do this the hard way. If we had managed to open all three portcullises while drowning, the water would have carried us off a cliff instead."

Velendo snorts and and rolls his eyes. "Overkill."

Galthia continues. "There are a number of dead kuo-toa out here. There are about ten live ones as well, all of whom are straining to turn a giant wheel." He gestures at the slowly rising portcullis. "They're either letting us out or coming in after us."

"Well, it's either our enemies or their enemies, but it's a good sign that they already eliminated their competition. Ready to greet them?" Mara's smile is bright. Malachite's hand hovers over his sword hilt, but without drawing the weapon he turns with the others and ducks under the still-rising gate.

Nolin calls out a greeting. "Hello?"

One of the kuo-toa turns. They see a paunchy, foul-smelling fish man whose goggling eyes take them all in without blinking. It flicks some slime from its webbed fingers in a ritual gesture and wobbles its head. "Gloobel boolboolb?" it asks.

"I'm sorry, no, we don't speak your language," answers Nolin.

"Slibdobollup. Then I will speak yours." The fish-thing speaks in a fair version of under-common, but with a heavy accent. Its voice is male and deeply pitched, echoing roundly from its sunken chest. The creature is taller than a man, and its wiry muscles give the impression of latent speed and power.

It gives a grimace that could possibly be construed as a grin. "I am pleased to see that you have survived. When my spies learned that you were to be killed, we rushed to do what we could." His webbed fingers come up and tug on the corner of his lipless mouth, leaving a faint trace of slime on the cold skin. For an instant the kuo-toa looks just like a hooked fish, but the image vanishes as he gestures at the stream coming from the tunnel. "There was not much water, we saw, so we removed the false King's guards. We will need to return them to the Sea Mother and sink back to Glubyal before Blel-plibbit realizes our success."

He turns to wave a hand at his minions, and the other kuo-toa begin to toss their dead enemies into the bottomless chasm by their feet. The leader bobbles his rounded head in satisfaction.

"Wait a moment," says Malachite. "Why did you want to help us?"

The kuo-toa turns and silently studies him with unblinking eyes. "Because the false King wished you dead. I do not know why, but if he would empty the reservoir to kill to cleanly and quickly, with no fuss, then you are someone who must be of help to me. He fears me, and would deny me any weapon. So I am fishing; I am hoping that you will be worth the trouble of the catch. If you are salesmen, then I have made a mistake."

"And you are?"

He bobbles his head again. "I am Monitor Thoobel. I am humble in the eyes of the Sea Mother, but I have floated to lead all those who can truly see the corruption of the King. He is supposed to be the mate of the Sea Mother, the fertilizer of our people, the tide that carries our souls!" Thoobel's fervent voice is tinged with obsession. "Instead he dallies with ghouls and mind flayers, and makes trades with those who would hurt our folk. The blessing of the Sea Mother has left him, if only he could see it, and it is time he passed the Crown of Tides to one who truly deserves it." Thoobel's sunken chest puffs with pride. "Perhaps that will be me. More than a third of our people follow me. They give their lives for what I believe in and would die for the cause... just as I would die for the cause." He studies the group as if expecting them to volunteer for Dying Duty, but no one does, so Thoobel turns to go.

"Come. We will smuggle you into the city." Everyone exchanges worried glances, shrugs, and begins to follow him.

"Oh goody," mumbles Nolin. "Ghouls AND mind flayers."

Malachite pauses, eyeing the path in front of him.

"Do we have to cross that bridge?"

The kuo-toa turns impatiently, and waves its fins. "Yes."

"I can't."

Mara turns to him. "I didn't know you were afraid of heights."

Malachite looks exasperated. "I'm not. That bridge is about two feet wide, though, and I'll never make it across in my armor. I just can't balance well enough." People begin to grin, and Malachite frowns. "Look, we've had this discussion before. The armor isn't made for balance. I can't make it over that bridge without falling."

OOC conversation: ----> "Wait, what's Malachite's balance check?" "Something like a -11. If I take 10, I think I'm at -1. You see my point." "Holy crap! How do you even walk down the street? You'd go 'step step aieee crash clatter clatter ow.' Remind me not to walk behind you."

Rope, caution, and a flying warhorse simplify the crossing. Soon a score of dwarves, a dozen kuo-toa and two handfuls of adventurers troupe downwards farther into the depths of the earth. Over the next few hours they pass deserted sentry points.

"What happened to the troops commanding those?" asks Nolin. Thoobel swivels his head to look at him; Nolin catches the reflection of his own burning hair in the glistening eyes.

"We killed them."

"Oh." Note to self, thinks Nolin. Don't piss off Thoobel.

The downwards-sloping tunnel eventually winds down to a cave opening, through which a strong and damp breeze is blowing. Thoobel gestures with a webbed hand.

"Glubyal," he burbles simply. There is both pride and hatred in his voice.

The glimmering city spreads below out before them, but at first glance it doesn't appear to be a city at all. Instead it looks more like a giant nautilus, a vast chambered shell that spirals around and fills the huge cavern. Examined more carefully, it appears that the walls and outer defenses of Glubyal are constructed from coral, and that many of the buildings and domiciles must be contained beneath the coral outer palisades. Still, it is hard to shake the feeling that the city before them is itself somehow alive, as it wallows half-submerged in the salty waters of the sunless sea.

"How many people live here?" asks Priggle, wonderingly.

"More than ten thousand. I control the southern end of the outer city."

A lightning bolt flares beneath them down a long curving ramp, and Thoobel's eyes flicker. "A few less, now. I had left my own people here to guard our return. Blel-Plibbit's guard has found them. They are under attack. You can all swim underwater, yes?" The group exchanges worried glances.

"Uh... for how long?"

"Not long. A half hour or so, no more."

Velendo shakes his head. "No, we can't. Not today." Thoobel looks annoyed at the surface dwellers for an instant, but his stolid expression quickly returns.

"Then my people will die while I find transportation for you." He turns to dive off the ramp into the water below.

"Wait! We'd like to help in the fight."

Thoobel considers for only a second. "Yes. I will be back within moments. Do not leave this place unless you must." He dives over the side and hits the water far below.

The fight is brief and bloody. Keeping to the high ground on the ramp, the dwarves have an excellent field of view, and they pump volley after volley into the thirty or so loyalist troops that have risen from the dark water. "How do we tell th' good fish from th' bad fish?" shouts one dwarf to his sergeant.

"Th' good fish aren't tryin' t' kill you!" shouts back the other dwarf.

Agar casts a fireball into the rear of the melee, and is surprised when a number of chanting, praying kuo-toa in the water all point their fins at him. A narrow lightning bolt forms between them and crackles out. Agar is struck square on the chest and flung backwards as blue rivulets of electricity shiver around his body.

"They can cast lightning," he gasps. Proty soars around him in agitation.

Splinder glances down the ramp. "Most of the friendly kuo-toa are dead, and more troops have emerged from the water. They're advancing."